Dirty Bastard (Wet Dicks MC Book 1)

by Echo Slater

  “What idea would that be?”

  “The oral thing and all of it,” she says, pressing her hand against my chest. “I’ve been waiting for the right guy to go wild with and do everything. You’re him. I’d do it now, but I can’t leave Hagan.”

  My knuckle slides under her chin to lift it upward and give me access to her pretty pink lips. I lean down and enjoy a taste. Cameo sucks at my lower lip as her hands slide under my vest and across my bare rib cage. My dick nearly snaps in half, trying to rip free from my jeans. I’m not sure how to think when every drop of blood is now located between my legs.

  “Come on over,” I say, taking Cameo’s hand and guiding her to the porch’s bench. After sitting, I pat my lap. “Let’s get more comfortable, baby.”

  Cameo glances down at my crotch and frowns. “Umm, no.”

  “Are you worried my hard-on will tear through both our jeans and hit paydirt?”

  “No.”

  Catching on to what’s stressing her, I grin. “Oh, hell, girl, you aren’t gonna break anything. Just sit and let me get another taste.”

  After a moment of hesitation and a glance back at a silent Hagan, Cameo slides across my lap and wraps her arms around my neck. Her eyes are wide and bright. The heat coming off her leaves me struggling to keep this moment PG-rated.

  My lips cover hers, tasting every bit of sweetness. Cameo melts against me. Her fingers disappear into my hair, and her moans echo in my head. Wrapping her in my arms, I tuck her snugly against my body.

  “Are your parents spectacularly beautiful?” she breathlessly asks when our lips part. Cameo strokes my face with her trembling fingers. “Is that why you’re so handsome?”

  “They’re alright. Nothing to write home about,” I say, nuzzling her throat with my lips. “Sometimes, magic just happens. Like, it doesn’t matter if your parents are sexy or not. You came out perfect, baby.”

  Cameo kisses me again. With us locked together, I can only track the passing of time by the changing songs. When Hagan mumbles something a few times, Cameo checks to see if her friend’s okay. Then, she returns to my lap and enjoys another taste.

  “Maybe we could sneak inside real quick,” she says as the party hits a fevered pitch in the distance. “You know, just to take the edge off.”

  “Naw, it’s too late for that,” I say, and her expression falls into a pout. “It ain’t enough to see you spread out on my bed and watch you come with my name on your lips. I want more now. I’ve gotta see you in a restaurant and feel you on the back of my hog. I want to know what you think and care about. Shit, girl, we’ve long passed the point where a fuck will be enough.”

  “You barely know me.”

  “Exactly. We gotta rectify that situation. So, I’ll take you out for dinner and a movie like normal people do. Just getting between your sweet thighs won’t satisfy the cravings I feel for you.”

  Cameo wraps her arms back around my neck and smiles a silly yet sexy grin. “I think you’re looking to break my heart. Is that what you bikers do for fun?”

  “Why would that be fun?”

  “Boys at school, well, they have to hustle for a girl’s attention. Not you, though,” she says as her fingers tease my scalp. “Women chase you. It’s too easy. So, you get bored and need a new challenge.”

  “But you’re offering to do me easy and quick. Nothing challenging about that.”

  “No, but you want to get me all wound up over you,” she says, holding my gaze. “Make me crazy in need until I can’t see anyone else. Then, when you got me wanting you like I’ll never want another man, you pull the rug out from under me. Splat, you broke a woman in a way no one can fix. That must be a challenge, isn’t it?”

  “You gotta meaner streak than I do, baby.”

  “Aw, because you’re a soft and sexy man, no hard edges, no heart made out of stone, right?”

  Grinning at her meaning, I shrug. “My heart’s never beat any different for anyone. Not cold or hot, hard or soft. But it’s going a mile a minute for you, Cameo.”

  I don’t know if she feels what I do. I sure as fucking hope so. Her flushed face gives me little to work with, and I wonder if she’s the one playing a game.

  Cameo watches me for a bit more before wanting another taste. I give her as much as she can handle without us taking this thing to the next level.

  Soon, she’s hot and bothered in a way she’s likely never been before. When she pulls away, she stares at me with nearly crazed eyes. Breathing deeply—and lifting those full round tits in the process—Cameo comes to her senses.

  “I don’t know why Hagan drank so much so fast,” she says before cupping my face. “I think maybe she was nervous. Though staying here would be more fun, I shouldn’t leave her like that.”

  “Like what?” Hagan says, popping her head up. “I’m fine. Never better.”

  “What’s seventeen multiplied by nine?”

  “The real question is, what’s seventeen?”

  Grinning, Cameo studies her friend before looking at me. “When do you want to see me again?”

  “How soon can you get away? Please tell me I won’t have to suffer until next weekend.”

  “Wednesdays are early release days. I can get home, clean up, and meet you somewhere. But I’ll need to be home by eleven. That or we have to wait until the weekend.”

  “No, Wednesday sounds better,” I insist and kiss her throat. “Surviving the last week was difficult enough.”

  “I had no trouble at all biding my time until tonight.”

  “Your solid lying skills are appreciated.”

  Cameo grins full of youthful innocence. Her cool-girl swagger is gone. She now stares at the guy who’s gotten her overheated in the best way.

  “I really want my first time to be amazing. I know that’s lame. But I don’t want to lie under some dumbass while he grunts for two minutes. Then, he’ll ask me if it was great, even though he knows it wasn’t. Those guys only care about their ego and not my pleasure. I don’t want to feel like a receptacle.”

  Cameo cups my face and holds my gaze. “When I look into the eyes of the boys I’ve dated, I knew they didn’t see me as a person. I was a shiny trophy to show off. Boys like that won’t fuck well, and I deserve better. One day, I’ll be old and bored of life. If I settle now, what great memories will I get nostalgic over?”

  “You just unpacked a whole lot of assumptions on me. But I can say with complete certainty, you’re going to love when I fuck you. I’m good on an average day. For you, Cameo, I won’t be average. You’ve got me feeling like a superstar at the peak of his fame, and I want to show off for you both in and out of bed. So, don’t worry about the future. I got this shit handled.”

  When Cameo studies my face, I feel as small as one of those high school dweebs trying to get to second base. How does she already wield power over me?

  But when Cameo smiles, I realize I’ve got power over her, too. She’s building me up in her head and making big plans for us. On Wednesday, I’ll push past her cool-girl exterior and find out how she ticks. I have zero doubts she can live up to my fantasies.

  Cameo Sutton is already my girl. How I make that official will just be a fun ride.

  CAMEO—TIGHTROPE

  I can’t believe my behavior tonight—any of it. But mostly how I choose to sit on a man’s lap for like an hour, sucking face feet away from an often giggling and completely blitzed Hagan. Even worse is how much I want to sneak into his house and nibble every inch of his very tall, brawny body.

  I mean, sure, despite my slutty exclamations, I would never leave my bestie sitting alone in an area with a hundred people, many of them drunk or high. Mad Dog makes me as horny as a dog in heat, but I’m not a flat-out bitch. Hagan is a sister to me, and I’m very aware of the kind of people partying nearby.

  But I still linger longer than I should with Mad Dog. After exchanging numbers, I set a timer on my phone to force my ass off his lap in five minutes.

  “Should I call you
Mike?” I ask, nuzzling his bearded jaw.

  “You can call me whatever you want, but no one calls me that. Not even my probation officer.”

  “You went to prison?” I ask, horrified at the image of this free-living man locked up.

  “No, a short sentence kept me in jail rather than going upstate. Nothing serious. I just punched a man who took a real long time to get back up. Brought it on himself, but I had to do a little time to make things right in the eyes of the law.”

  “I don’t like the thought of you locked away. You’re too big to be in a cage.”

  Mad Dog smiles, seeming almost sheepish. “If you keep talking so sweet to me, I don’t know if I’ll let you leave my side.”

  “Well, you don’t really have a choice in the matter. My timer is running the show now.”

  “Do you really think I couldn’t force you to stay?” he asks, challenging me.

  “With your cock so hard, I don’t think you’d want to make me angry. Seems like you’re currently in a vulnerable state.”

  Running his hands through his thick brown hair, he throws his head back and laughs. “Hell, girl, you’re making me all kinds of crazy.”

  “I’m not saying anything special. You’re just too horny to see straight. But we’ll fix that later this week, okay?” I say, easing off his lap. “We’ll fix my thing, too.”

  My pants are fricking drenched. I’m glad I wore black jeans, or else my arousal would be super obvious right now.

  “Will you walk me out?” I ask and then glance at his groin. “Can you still walk?”

  Mad Dog smirks. “I’ll figure out how to strut on three legs. Can’t have you going alone with your functioning alcoholic friend to the car.”

  Seeing him sitting there with his long legs stretched out and his arms crossed behind his head, I struggle to stick to my plan. So easily, I could be back against him, where the world feels better.

  But I focus on Hagan, whose eyes pop open as soon as I cup her face.

  “I’ve never felt better,” she says before I ask how she’s doing.

  “We need to go. Can you walk?”

  “I’ve been walking since I was a year old. Fast learner.”

  Hagan stands, wobbles, and then takes my hand. “I’m glad we came. Let’s pick up Taco Bell on the way home.”

  Mad Dog returns to his feet in a smooth motion as if he wasn’t just hot and heavy and rock hard a minute ago.

  “I’ll escort you,” he says, wrapping his long fingers around the back of my neck.

  Hagan bounces around to the music as we return to the party. I keep one hand laced with hers, and the other shoved into Mad Dog’s back pocket. He smirks deeper, realizing I’m feeling him up as we move through the crowd of partygoers.

  I notice his biker bros scattered around the area. They’re easy to spot, and not only because they’re all wearing those vests. The men of the Wet Dicks Motorcycle Club are full-grown studs. Not a pasty-faced loser among them.

  I wonder what the interview process is like for their club. Is there a swimsuit round? If so, Mad Dog no doubt aced it since his ass is rock hard. Bet I could even bounce a quarter off it.

  We arrive at the red Chevy Terrain my grandma gifted to me after she was stripped of her driver’s license. I wrangle Hagan into the passenger seat and request she avoids choking to death on her vomit.

  “What if I’m hungry, though?” she asks before listing off what she wants at Taco Bell.

  I promise she’ll get her chalupa as long as she waits patiently while I suck face with my sexy biker.

  “Better to leave him wanting more,” she says as I shut the door.

  Mad Dog erases the space between us and murmurs in my ear, “Oh, I want everything.”

  “And I’m very generous with certain people.”

  He kisses me. Not for fun or games. Mad Dog is claiming me with this kiss, marking my every nerve with his brand. I’m literally stunned when his lips leave mine.

  “Wednesday,” he murmurs and walks me around to the driver’s side. “Don’t forget.”

  I stare dumbstruck. No way can I forget a kiss like that or a man like him. Somehow, I gain enough sense to climb in the driver’s seat. Eventually, I pull the Terrain away from Mad Dog and past wasted people wandering around.

  “You did good tonight,” Hagan mumbles once we’re waiting in the Taco Bell drive-thru. “I thought for sure you would ride that Harley man and let him taste your cherry pie. Instead, you only played tonsil-hockey while I dozed. You’re a good friend. I know remaining dressed must have been difficult.”

  I smile at her sloppy-drunk affections. “I can’t believe how easy Mad Dog is to be around. I expected him to be pushier or something. I don’t know.”

  “You’re sweet on him.”

  “Yes,” I say, exhaling hard. “I’m scared by how much I like him.”

  “Don’t fear, Cam. What’s the worst that can happen?”

  “He breaks my heart, and I spend the rest of my life drowning in regret.”

  “Oh, I figured the absolute worst was him giving you herpes and a dirty bastard baby he insists you name Angry Puppy.”

  Giggling, I order our food. Soon, we’re back on the road and a block from our house when I ask, “Why did you drink so much?”

  “I was nervous. That Stoney asshole stroked my clit with his eyes. How’s a girl supposed to respond to that?”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she says, throwing up her hands. “He looked at me and smirked. Not like a frat boy flirting, but like a man who would fuck me into a coma. I felt like a twelve-year-old with her first crush. So, I downed a dozen beers and got completely wasted to make those feelings go away.”

  “You drank one and a half beers, not a dozen.”

  Hagan sighs loudly and presses her hands against the roof as if steadying herself. “My lush father would be mortified to learn of my shallow booze limit. Please, don’t tell him I’ve betrayed my long, illustrious bloodline of addicts and boozehounds.”

  “I never share your shit. You know that,” I say, parking at the curb in front of my house. Turning to her, I sigh. “I’m going all-in with Mad Dog. If he wants me to go to his bungalow at the Ranch and not come out for a few days, I’m saying yes. And if he finishes with me, and all I get is a gallon of jizz in my stomach and a really sore ass, I won’t regret my time with him. I’ve chosen to embrace the dirty bastard path.”

  “You’ll get a few orgasms, too,” she assures me. “He seems like he probably knows how to fuck you into silly putty. So, the dirty bastard path should at least be fun, even if it ends up with you raising a tattooed baby.”

  Laughing, I grab the bags and my giant drink. “No way is my baby getting ink until he’s old enough to have his balls pierced. That’s how my parents raised me, and it’s how I’ll raise my own kids.”

  “I hope our babies are friends,” Hagan says, shuffling behind me with her big soda.

  “Me too. So, do you like Stoney? Should we double-date?” I ask, snickering at the thought.

  “There’s no future with a man whose heart is made out of stone.”

  “The heat of your lava heart could turn a rocky love organ into goo. Then, you and I can get matching tattoos on our asses.”

  Hagan follows me through the front door and says, “Yeah, they’ll say, ‘property of biker dick.’ We’ll get the ink in fancy cursive, so our parents will be impressed.”

  Right then, Phil and Arlene look up from their Netflix obsession—there’s always a new one—and stare at us from behind their glasses.

  “Applaud what?” my mom asks.

  “Our ability to get home before curfew,” I say on my way to the stairs. “Night.”

  Hagan mumbles something to my parents while remaining right behind me. Up in our room, she strips down to her underwear, claiming to be overheated. Then, she sits in the window seat and eats her chalupa.

  I head to the connected bathroom and check my appearance. My
cheeks remain flushed from my earlier friction with a beautiful beefcake. Noticing a prominent purple-and-blue blotch on my throat, I smile at the mirror.

  “Nicely marked, Mad Dog,” I murmur before heading back into the bedroom where Hagan watches “Animaniacs.”

  I scarf down my two hard tacos, gulp half my drink, brush my teeth, and climb into bed. Already under the covers of her nearby bed, Hagan stares at the TV with half-open eyes.

  Our shared room is the usual mix of leftover little-girl memorabilia along with our newer grownup stuff. Next to my bed, my Lilo and Stitch dolls sit. On the wall is the cool bohemian chick painting we bought at the flea market. Hagan’s and my sports trophies are shoved into a corner of the bookshelf. On another wall hangs the photo collage of us since high school. A few pictures are stuck on the mirror of Hagan and me in our younger days, plus one of my parents with us during a camping trip.

  My comforter is a mature black, while my pillows are left over from my old Disney princess days.

  When I imagine what Mad Dog’s bedroom looks like, I worry I’m not woman enough for all that man.

  Fuck it! I might not be ready for him, but I’m more than willing to enjoy my failure.

  MAD DOG—WANT SOME NEED SOME

  Nothing settles me down after Cameo takes off. Not rubbing one out or throwing back beers. Even a joint can’t soften the edge. I’m dying to have that girl back in my arms.

  Worse still, I’m wondering about her every move. What’s she doing? Who’s she with? Is she thinking about me?

  Hell, I’m fucked up now. Lost in crazy hormones I haven’t felt since I first got it up for the opposite sex. How will I function until Wednesday?

  By Sunday breakfast, I’m pumping myself up to drive to Cameo’s house and force her to spend time with me. Is she at church? Does she clean on Sundays? Sleep late? Work in the yard? These unanswered questions are driving me nuts.

  The Hanger is a two-story-high building with an industrial vibe outside and a homey cabin mood inside. I remember when Grizz and Hoot came up with the idea. They kept comparing our future common area to a barn. I couldn’t picture anything they were planning. But now I spend more time here than at my place.